


Hour of the Wolf

by BenSky_VestaraKhai



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Book: The World of Ice and Fire, F/M, Gen, Multi, Spoilers for Book: The World of Ice and Fire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5486531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenSky_VestaraKhai/pseuds/BenSky_VestaraKhai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tales of the Starks of old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hour of the Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading the last bit will make people a bit sick.
> 
> I hate writing this kind of stuff but I wanted to show my point that while Theon was a badass, he was also a major jerk to people not of the North.
> 
> If anything, Westeros was even more of a terrible place to live before the Targaryens, as hard as it sounds to believe.

**THE HUNGRY WOLF**

 

"Your Grace."

The King of Winter looked up from the map of the eastern coasts of the North.

Torrhen Cerwyn stood at the doorway. His face was ever so slightly wrinkled with distaste. 

"Yes Torrhen? What is it?" Theon slightly rasped, his voice weak from almost a whole day without use. 

"They're all here. The Boltons have finally arrived, Your Magnificence," Torrhen said, the disgust on his face now openly seen. It was not surprising.

The Boltons had only bent the knee in the reign of his father, Brandon the Hammer. After almost four millennium of struggle, even the Boltons had seen the futility of fighting against the Starks. Rogar the Huntsman submitted and had even sent his youngest sons to serve as hostages.

But old memories die hard. The practice of flaying was well remembered, and the distaste that many of his bannermen held the Boltons in was only outmatched by fear of the invaders from the east. And that was why Theon had called them all to Winterfell.

As he walked into the Great Hall with his oldest friend by his side, he observed his bannermen as they bowed in respect.

Lonnel Umber was the oldest of the lords present, but his age in now way had weakened his strength. He was still the living representation of his house's sigil that Theon rememebered from his boyhood. His absolute faith in House Stark would go a long way to convincing some of the more newly joined houses to bear with his plan.

Renard Dustin was whispering to his neighbour, Jon Ryswell. No doubt it was another plot to gain greater influence in Theon's court. The man should really stop trying to get Theon to marry one of his daughters for then he would actually listen to Dustin. The lord wasn't stupid after all.

As he sat himself on the throne that his ancestor, Brandon the Builder, had carved out of white stone, the noise on the Hall fell away till it was more silent than the godswood. 

"My lords. You know why I called you all here. But if not, let me enlighten you. These raiders from the east, these 'Andals', dare to land their ships on our soil, kill _our_ men, rape _our_ women, enslave _our_ children, and take our land for themselves. They have already begun to overrun the Mountain Kingdom.This cannot be borne!"

The lords stood then, shouting in agreement. For a while, Theon let the shouting rage on, pleased that his bannermen were united in purpose.

"How do you propose to do this?" Ryman Bolyon asked. As fast as the noise had swelled up within the room did it disappear. While Ryswell had few problems with the lords of the Dreadfort, others were not so comfortable. 

"Perhaps if you open your ears and let His Grace speak, you would know, Bolton," Torrhen all but spat.

"I speak to the king, not his little axe," Ryman returned with a malevolent stare. Being the Starks' very first bannermen, as many Cerwyns as Starks had fallen to the sharp knives of the Red Kings. The hatred between the two houses was only outmatched by the tensions the Boltons had with the Starks.

"Enough," Theon snarled. "If this is how we deal with each other, we might as well leave the eastern coasts undefended and signal to the invaders that the North is as good as theirs."

His rebuke was enough to curb Lord Bolton's aggressiveness and shame his old friend to silence. Likewise, the tensions between the other lords was beginning to lift as well.

Lifting his gaze from two of his most powerful lords, Theon raked the others with his stone-cold gaze. "Are there any other disagreements before I speak?" 

The respectful silence spoke volumes.

As Theon settled back, he signaled to the guards at the door. 

The guards then dragged in a chained man to a spot before the dais. They dropped the prisoner, one gave a sword with him to Theon, and returned to their posts. 

Theon lifted the weapon to the gaze of his interested guests.

"Do you know what this is? " he asked. Not waiting for an answer, he continued. "This is a sword made of a metal called iron. Just as good as bronze, and far less expensive and difficult to forge."

As murmurs of wonderment swept through the assembly, Theon got up from his throne and stood in front of the chained man.

"This prisoner is an Andal warrior who was captured by Torrhen Cerwyn's men in one of the recent raids. What is more is that he is also an experienced smith who knows how to collect this metal and forge it into weapons. What is more is that he is the sworn sword of warlord by the name of Argos Sevenstar."

Theon took a moment to ensure he still held their attention and then said, "I have forced this man to teach my smiths. They have already started forging the first iron weapons in the North. Armed with them, we shall break these Andal barbarians against our shields and send a message to never come here again."

As his lords cheered, he waved to all of them to come closer. 

With their hostility focused on one enemy rather than each other, his plan could work.

And work it did.

After almost a year, the Andals were once again spotted in force near the North's coasts.

But this time, the North was ready for them.

The time in between had not been wasted. His gaolers , with the aid of a man who had fought with the Bronze King and knew the Andal tongue, had wringed every last bit of knowledge from the man. While the secrets of iron would be more useful in the long run and were certainly not neglected, Theon was far more interested in the Andal traditions and of the characteristics of the warlord who had a particular interest in the North.

Coordinating with his bannermen, Theon found himself sitting beside Ryman Bolton as they watched from their cover as one particular Andal ship drew closer and closer to them at their spot by the Weeping Water.

With the prisoner's knowledge, he recognized the Andal ship as the personal vessel of this Argos Sevenstar from the seven-pointed star carved at the prow. 

The way they so brazenly landed on _his_ lands in an effort to destroy his people and take everything of their own awoke a fury in him. He desired to rip all of them apart, to bathe in their blood, to avenge his subjects who had fallen to their swords. 

If Theon's plan worked, his wish would come through.

Watching the invaders, he noticed they deferred to a man decked in bronze scale armor with an iron sword in hand. _Argos Sevenstar, I have you now._

Yelling the old war cry of House Stark, he leapt at the enemy, Bolton beside him and their men behind them.

Caught by surprise, the Andals had no chance. The archers' arrows killed ten men in the first wave alone. His warriors killed another five after that.

As for him, he howled for Sevenstar's blood. The man had as little chance as his warriors. The bronze blade in Theon's hand bit deep into Sevenstar's undefended throat. Yanking the blade out with a spurt of crimson, he slashed at the neck again.

Almost decapitated with the first strike alone, the second finished the job. As the head bounced away, Theon stared at the headless trunk of his enemy as it fell to the ground. 

An idea then appeared in his mind, a terrible bloody thought that brought a hungry smile to his lips.

 

**

 

Theon spotted the coast in the distance.

Behind his flagship was the rest of the Northern fleet. The rest of his lords had been as succesful as he, with not a single Andal living to tell the tale. The only ones spared had been the smiths, who would help spread the knowledge of iron throughout the North...whether they liked it or not. 

But there was still one more reckoning to be had.

The fate that his people had suffered Theon would now wreak on Sevenstar's.

The man's corpse, lashed to the prow of his ship, would demoralize his people. And what would happen to his people would serve as a warning to any other Andals what would happen if they dared make their way to his lands.

Almost all the men had taken part in the attack, leaving only a few green boys and old men in most of the villages.

An easy meal for a wolf, it seemed. And so it was.

Scores of villages were burned to the ground.

Three tower houses and a sept were captured.

Thousands of men, women, and children were put to the sword. But not before his warriors took their pleasure. When the women were so riven that they no longer gave pleasure, they were flung aside to die, coated in blood and seed. They were the lucky ones. 

Most of the more beautiful ones were taken as prizes of war. They would serve as thralls, whether for pleasure or for work would be to their masters.

He abstained, as he felt that it was an unnecessary cruelty to commit. But he did not forbid his soldiers to rape and pillage. These Andals would have done the same to his people had they won. It was only fair.

And now for one last step in his plan.

Theon ordered the heads of the dead to be cut off and taken with them as they returned.

When they did, to the horror of many of his own lords, he ordered the heads to be planted on stakes all along the coasts of the North. If any invader dared to try and take the North, this would be their fate.

The North Remembers.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of all the Stark kings, this one was the bomb.
> 
> The North was probably never as feared or as secure as when he ruled.
> 
> But Theon Stark was not a nice man, to put it lightly.
> 
> All of the things that are written here, he did in canon. 
> 
> But then again, they were hard times. Hard men were needed.  
> It's the same in our own world history.


End file.
